Untilted Gakuhai
by untitled.fantasy
Summary: Just a little something I wrote... Gakuhai, of course. That means- Gackt and Hyde.


**Warning:** Some Gakuhai fans might not like how this story turns out. I'm warning you now, so don't leave me comments going "OMG I HATE U Y WOOD U DO DIS?!" No, that's immature.

**Disclaimer: **I originally based this off Shallow Sleep. Therefore, I have to say I don't own that song. Nor do I own Gackt or Hyde. Heck, everyone wants to own Gackt and/or Hyde.

**Author's notes: **Please enjoy. n.n

* * *

The room was dimly lit, but it was plain to see the pale face reflecting in the one-way window. That pale face stared back at him, eyes mirroring the worry and nervousness he felt. Brown eyes scanned every feature of that face, every aspect, down to the eyelashes as though some answer would pop out at him. The prickles on his neck told him he was being watched.

Hideto Takarai remained sitting in the same chair he had been in for the past hour, though now he brought his hands under the table to fidget in his lap. The handcuffs around his wrists prevented him from rubbing at his arms, the goosebumps rising there showing that although the bartender kept a calm demeanor, he was actually quite nervous. He had just been returning to his apartment after a late night of work, no doubt the key was still in the lock, when three men clad in business suits came up to him, confirming his name, and cuffing his hands behind his back.

Since then, he had remained quiet. He was unaware of the situation at hand, but if it was enough to leave him in chains and in a dark, cold room, then it was a serious matter. At this time, it was unclear if he was the suspect or the victim. The victim. The victim! ... At least, in his mind.

He wasn't aware of any crimes he could have committed, nor did he understand what type of crime he could have committed.

The lock on the door clicked, and Hyde's eyes left his reflection to quickly darted to the door in the far corner of the room. The handle turned. The door slowly creaked open.

And in stepped Gackt.

As usual, he was unsmiling. He seemed to always have a bored expression on his face. The time Hyde sat up late drinking coffee with him while he waited for the results from the police academy; it was the same time they met for group date. Even when it was just the two of them, alone at the older male's house, or watching a movie in Hyde's living room. Gackt never did seem truly happy around Hyde, even when at university. He was always smiling humbly and laughing calmly at the teacher's jokes, or offering peaceful smiles to a female classmate when she found something too difficult. Gackt never laughed at Hyde's jokes. He never offered assistance when Hyde needed help.

Hyde needed help now, and he had a feeling Gackt wouldn't hand it out with a reassuring smile. The older male moved the chair opposite of Hyde from the table and gracefully fell into it, crossing his legs and leaning forward to rest his clasped hands on the table. Hyde couldn't look at his friend, couldn't find the will to raise his eyes to meet Gackt's. He just stared at his hands, still fidgeting in his lap.

"I told them to bring you in. I don't think they got you weren't in trouble."

Hyde nodded slightly, not looking at his friend. A key was placed on the table in front of him, and Hyde eyed it suspiciously. Was he free, then? He wasn't really in trouble, as Gackt said? He reached for the key, hesitated, and picked I up to unlock the handcuffs from around his wrists. He let the metal clink to the table noisily and rubbed his wrists. They were red from the tight handcuffs, and Gackt's face looked almost apologetic when Hyde looked at him next. Almost wasn't enough. He looked back down at his hands again, folded restlessly in his lap.  
"Come drinking with me tomorrow."  
"I have work."  
"We'll go there."  
"It's Thursday."  
"Oh." Gackt almost sounded devastated.

Again, almost wasn't enough. Hyde stood from his chair and headed for the door. Gackt didn't call to him to stop him, so he just kept walking without looking back.

What he didn't realize is that Gackt kept watching him, pleading to him silently to turn around and say good-bye.

"Lock up for me tonight!"  
The manager didn't even leave time for Hyde to reply, so the male simply nodded and continued to push the clothe against the counter, pulling the half empty glasses from the surface and setting them gently in the sink behind him. Now that the midnight rush was over, and most patrons were probably returning home, Evergreen was silent save for the soft humming of the electric fan in the back office. Of course the manager would leave it on.  
Hyde sighed as he rolled up the sleeves of his white button down shirt, though it was probably useless. The fan hadn't been enough to keep the building from falling victim to the summer heat, and the white shirt was translucent from perspiration. The fact that the shirt was see-through didn't bother the male, as he was wearing a light gray shirt beneath the white one. He should have just taken the white shirt off, save himself the trouble of wearing two layers. The thought only occurred to him after his hands were submerged in the sink. He'd have to keep the white shirt on, at least until he was finished with the dishes.  
He worked quickly, to the rhythm of the fan, and soon enough he was pulling the plug to empty the sink. He picked up the red towel on the counter next to him and dried his hands, finally unbuttoning his white shirt and pulling it off. He left it with a pile of dirty aprons in the back room.  
Hyde still had more tasks to do, but he needed to take a break. He reached behind the desk and opened the drawer, pulling out a pack of cigarettes before heading to the back alley, pulling the lighter from his back pocket. He pulled a cigarette from the pack and tossed it down on the bottle crates next to the back door, putting it between his lips and lighting it. He levered it between two fingers, placing his lighter on the crates next to the pack.  
The dark night was muggy and made the gray shirt stick to his slender frame. Summer truly was relentless. Hyde watched the night sky, noting how it always looked the same at this time; the point between morning and night, where the clock read anywhere from 1:00 to 4:00. He checked his watch. 1:52. He let out a puff of smoke before dropping the butt to the ground, stomping it out before picking up the pack and lighter and heading back inside. At least there he had the false breeze attempting to cool the bar. Without a care, he tossed the pack onto the desk, returning his lighter to his pocket. The tables still needed washing, and then he could finally lock up for the night.  
He filled a bucket halfway, adding in soap and dropping in the dishrag before making his way over to the back tables. He set the bucket down and it let off a weak sloshing noise. The main door rattled open just as Hyde was about to ring out the dish clothe. He let it drop back into the container before moving slowly to the inner door, pressing his ear against it. Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall and Hyde moved away from the door to the back room. His manager always kept a loaded pistol for times like this. Hyde picked up the weapon and crouched behind the counter, peeking around the edge of it to stare at the door. The handle rattled. Hyde aimed the gun. The door slowly swung open. Hyde pulled the trigger. And in walked Gackt.

His was a special case; a criminal act done in the name of self defense, while at the same time it was completely accidental. The man had no right to be there, locked away in that hospital. He had no right to live while his friend could no long walk among the living. He had no right to be treated so kindly by the doctors in the psych ward. He had every right to rot in a jail cell until the end of his miserable life. The doctors told him it was all right, and he would be just fine. His friend's comrades refused to explain to him why he hadn't received word of a funeral service.  
His was a very special case.

Waking up had been torturous hell. The pain was bearable, and the false smiles around him were easy to shrug off, but the one thing he couldn't forget was the man holding the gun that had left him wounded. Gackt wasn't screaming out in pain, and he didn't push away the nurses and doctors because he couldn't bear them near him. He was trying to ask why; why would Hyde shoot him, but no matter all he could manage was to let loose a scream that not even he could stand.  
He couldn't help but feel responsible for his own injury. After all, he had been so cold to Hyde during that mix up at the jail the previous day, and he couldn't help but feel as though Hyde hated him for that. He would try to apologize, but that agonizing scream was all that he would hear. He tried forming the words, but nothing came out. He tried writing what he wanted to say, but all he could manage was a few scribbles that could barely pass for anything. He refused to eat, refused to drink. When he refused treatment, they put him on heavy painkillers that put him to sleep, and he'd wake up with a clean wound and no memory of being touched. For weeks this went on, while in his mind he saw Hyde cowering in a jail cell, afraid of the twisted world that surrounded him. When Gackt slept, that's all he dreamt about, and it caused his heart to hurt much more than the broken flesh of his shoulder.

"Takarai-san, you have a visitor."  
The nurse's voice was polite, but even so she only received a low grunt from the male she spoke to. She pressed her hand against his shoulder lightly, and his head rolled on his shoulders until he was staring at her. His eyes were so sad, and the nurse had to look away.  
A special case indeed.  
"Takarai-san, you shouldn't keep him waiting," the nurse said calmly as though she were looking at him with deep sincerity.  
She wasn't. The man grunted again and pulled his feet over the side of the bed before standing and swaying in his spot. The nurse pulled forward a wheelchair and the man slumped down. He was to the point where he wanted to stop living. He was fed through IVs, a nurse would come in once a day to make sure he showered, and every hour an orderly came to bring him to the bathroom. During visiting hours he lay in his bed, unmoving, staring at the blank television screen as though it were playing some fascinating movie. Perhaps what he saw in the screen was a life better than this.  
The nurse pushed him down the hall towards the visiting rooms, rambling on about his guest. He had to make sure not to say hurtful things, or touch his left shoulder. The man in the wheelchair listened without hearing.

The doors slid open as the nurse and the man she pushed along neared them. He was brought to a table with a single chair, placed across from that chair. The nurse locked the wheels and walked out to get his visitor. Moments later a familiar person sat down across from the lifeless man. His arm was in a sling, and a smile wrinkled the corners of his mouth.  
They had brought an angel. Clearly, as the smiling man had been murdered at his own hands.

Hyde remained silent, so Gackt filled that gap with his own words. He was explaining why he was there, saying sorry every now and then, using intimate words. Every time he paused, it was to let Hyde speak up, but his friend remained lifeless, save for his eyes. When Gackt sat down, they had been so dull, not caring. The moment Gackt had begun talking, they grew bright and curious. It was enough to keep Gackt talking, because at least his friend was responding to it. They had told him it was a bad idea to see his friend, because the older male believed him to be dead. He would panic, they had said. If Hyde was panicking, he kept it to himself; that was a fact. He wasn't showing signs of going off the deep end as Gackt went deeper and deeper into the past two months, and he didn't even flinch when Gackt explained about his own hysterics.  
This wasn't so bad. Eventually, visiting hours ended and Gackt had to leave. Hyde didn't open his mouth to say farewell, and he didn't even show signs of realizing Gackt was leaving until the younger man was halfway out the door.  
"Gacchan," Hyde said, voice rough from his long silence. "It hurts."  
Then his head rolled on his shoulders and he was lifeless, back to the state he had been in before Gackt sat down. The nurse wheeled him out sadly as Gackt stood in the hallway, watching his friend return to his sad way of life.

Seven days later Hyde was told he had a visitor. He didn't react, and he kept up his silence, so they wheeled him down to the visiting room to where Gackt sat, arm still in a sling, smile still wrinkling the edges of his mouth. The nurse locked the wheels and headed out. Immediately, Gackt went into a detailed description of the past week, again pausing to let Hyde speak. Still, nothing. Again, when Gackt was leaving Hyde opened his mouth to repeat the same words he had said the previous time.  
"It hurts."  
That first night, Gackt went home and thought about the meaning. Was Hyde being mistreated there? It certainly didn't look like it. He was well groomed, and he didn't look at all malnourished.  
That night, Gackt thought about a deeper meaning. Maybe that wheelchair was uncomfortable and Hyde was in pain from sitting in such a stiff seat.  
A week later, Hyde was wheeled into the visiting room. That night, Gackt went home contemplating his words.  
Why was Hyde in pain? Why was his friend hurting?

It wasn't for another month that Gackt finally understood Hyde's words, but it was simply because the moment the nurse left the two to be, Hyde leaned forward in his chair, looking at Gackt with such admiration that it almost hurt.  
"Gacchan," Hyde said softly, rocking slightly in the wheel chair. "It hurts."  
Usually, Hyde stated this at the end of visiting hours, so it came as a surprise to Gackt when his friend attempted to start the conversation.  
"Are you in pain, Hyde?"  
"Gacchan, where are your wings? It hurts."  
"Hyde...?"  
"Can't you fly? To see you without wings, it hurts."  
Hyde lifted his hand to place it over his heart. He seemed bewildered to feel it beating beneath his skin, and he looked down at where his hand covered his chest. Gackt remained silent. It hurt to see him without wings.  
"Why can't I see your wings? Did Kami-sama take them away?"  
That question cleared things up for Gackt. Hyde believed him to be an angel. So it was true what the doctors said; Gackt was dead to Hyde. His best friend had shot and killed him. Gackt stood from the table and moved to stand at Hyde's side. The older male turned his head up to face the angel before him. Hyde was sure this violated some rule, but he didn't really care. He had never really cared. Not until this angel appeared in his life.  
Gackt's hand was warm against his cheek, and he moved his head into the hand that caressed his pale skin. Gackt was leaning over him, then kneeling next to him, looking up at him.  
"I don't have any wings," the angel murmured, softly. "But you do."  
It took a few seconds to realize the angel was talking about the tattoos on his shoulder blades.  
Wings.  
Hyde chuckled softly.  
"I'm sorry for stealing them," he replied.  
Finally, after all the waiting, Gackt saw his friend smile. The younger male shook his head, still keeping his hand against Hyde's cheek, before gently kissing him.  
"Visiting hours are over," the nurse called from the doors.  
Gackt stood and pulled his hand away from Hyde's face before walking out of the room. Hyde could only watch him go.

The only noise Hyde could register was the soft beeping coming from somewhere to his right. The steady beats that pulsated alerted him to the fact he was hooked up to a heart monitor. He couldn't recall how this had happened, and the last memory that came to mind was standing outside. Snow had been falling around him, and the only thing that kept him from noticing the cold was Gackt's warm embrace. After that his mind was blank.  
A small commotion by the door of his room stole his attention, and he let his head fall to the side to watch as someone tried getting into the room. Hyde knew the man, he was certain, but he couldn't exactly remember where from. He raised his hand, trying to pull the man closer to him, even though fifteen feet of air separated them. The man pushed his way into the room and stumbled to Hyde's bed, taking his outstretched hand.  
"Hyde, you're going to be all right," the man said.  
Hyde blinked at him. This stranger's voice made it sound as though he had been told other wise. He let his eyes drift to the heart monitor. He didn't know medical numbers and rates, but he was sure that the low numbers on the screen weren't good. It wasn't until he noticed the lines that he realized it wasn't a heart monitor. It was measuring his brain waves. He laughed softly, and the stranger at his side glanced at the same screen. Hyde felt the hand around his tighten, and instantly he stopped laughing to look at the man. Hyde pulled his hand from the man's grasp and placed his fingertips on his cheeks, barely touching the skin. A nurse was standing behind the man now, and Hyde wondered if it was to take the stranger away from him. The nurse said something that Hyde didn't quite catch and instantly the stranger was on his feet and facing the nurse. Hyde laughed yet again, and the stranger turned to look at him. Again, he was at his side, and again, Hyde was brushing his fingertips against his skin.  
He knew the face now. He was certain.  
"Kami-sama..."  
The stranger looked panicked.  
"Kami-sama, are you finally taking me to him?"  
"You're not going anywhere, Hyde, don't worry."  
The stranger was holding his hand again. The numbers on the screen dropped, and the line became straighter. The room was silent, and during that silence the number struck zero and the line went flat.  
The man in the bed was still breathing, and his hand was still engulfed in Gackt's, but nowhere in the room could Gackt find traces of Hyde, save for the lingering traces on fingertips on his cheek.


End file.
